Reunion
by CS Fitzgerald
Summary: After years have passed since they last saw each other, two old lovers have a chance encounter at a wedding, on a night that just might change everything.
1. Chapter 1

"Scotch, on the rocks, please," A man requested. "And make it a double."

The bartender glanced at him oddly, largely because he had just cut in front of three other people who had been waiting patiently in line. But, in his defense, it was because it was only 6 PM and Athrun wasn't sure he could make it through the rest of the evening, completing all of his best man duties, if he remained as painfully sober as he was right there and then. Fortunately for him, the bartender didn't say anything and poured him a drink anyways, which he downed quickly, welcoming the three-second reprieve it gave him before he realized he was still sober.

He immediately ordered another one and looked at the crowd around him in the meantime, examining all of the impeccably dressed politicians, lawyers, businessmen, and top ranking military officials and their equally elegantly dressed wives or girlfriends, who had all somehow warranted an invitation to Dearka and Mirialla's wedding. He continued to scan the crowd until he eventually found who he was looking for. Cagalli Yula Athha, the most beautiful woman in the room, sitting all by herself, just as alone as he was.

It was the first time he had seen her in years. He had heard she was invited and had secretly hoped that she'd come, though he had no idea why she actually did. It appeared that the universe was working in strange ways to bring them back together. As he stared at her figure, still taken aback by the unexpected sight of her, he suddenly felt a bit breathless and unsteady, unable to find the solid ground beneath his feet. He quickly gripped the marble countertop and felt the hard edge against the palm of his hand. The cold, hardness brought him back to reality.

He's grateful that she hasn't seen him yet, because it gives him a chance to recompose himself and study her uninterrupted for a few more minuets. She's aged just as well as he always thought she would; her hair falls down her back, golden, shiny, and a bit longer than it used to be. He recalls how soft the strands used to feel between his fingers. And her skin was smooth and pale, her neck exposed when she shook her head a little. He thinks he could write poems and sonnets and songs about just how lovely she was, describe every detail of her, from her dark eye lashes to her fair complexion to her rosebud shaped lips.

He's still watching her when she abruptly decides to stand up from her table, discreetly tucks a pack of cigarettes away in her purse, and makes her way towards the woman's restroom. He thinks that this is definitely not something the old her would have done; then again, he had once thought he knew her only to discover that he had figured her out all wrong. Even now, she remained a puzzle to him. However, it seemed as if the restroom was occupied because she changes her direction and hurries to a shadowy corner of the room near a window instead. It's in that moment that he realizes he wants the awkwardness between them to dissipate as soon as possible to make this night a little more bearable. So he makes his mind up and, before he can change it, orders two glasses of champagne. "Wish me luck," Athrun says to the bartender before he crosses the dance floor and goes to her.

Once he's close enough, she eventually notices him and he's surprised to see that she is not surprised at all to see him in front of her. When he's finally right beside her, he presents her one of the glasses of champagne he's brought, as if it were a peace offering. "For you."

"Thank you, but I don't drink." She tells him as she politely rejects the champagne.

"You smoke but you don't drink." He remarks, slightly amused.

"Well, I shouldn't do that either, of course, but…"

She's cut off in the middle of her sentence by a loud eruption of happy cheers that fill the entire room. The sound reminds the two that there is in fact a wedding currently happening around them, that all the people beside them are celebrating the joyous union between a Mr. and Mrs. Elsman and not hiding somewhere in the reception. And then he notices again that she is wearing a bridesmaid dress. A lovely pale pink dress that clings on to every curve and dip of her petite body. "I thought bridesmaids weren't allowed to smoke?" He asks.

"Guess I'm not a good bridesmaid." She answers, as she takes another drag.

"Hey, don't be too hard on yourself now," He replies, hoping to lightened the mood. "I hear that the only requirement is that you can fit into one of these dresses."

She smiles. A barely noticeable smile, but it's a smile nonetheless and it's been so long since she's given him one of those. "Alright. How am I doing then? And don't you dare hold back."

"I'd say you're doing well."

"I'm glad you think so but it doesn't matter. I was an alternate anyway." She admits, grinning. "The original seventh bridesmaid apparently broke a leg in an unfortunate skiing accident. Of course, she swore up and down, the bride - that is, that she had intended to invite me earlier, that she had just forgot to send my invitation because of how hectic planning a wedding all by herself was, but well…you know how _this_is. "

"I don't actually." He says and shocks both of them by getting closer. "Tell me."

"Well…" She begins, searching for the right words. "You could say that I have a bit of a sordid history with one of the other guests."

"History? Sounds interesting." He whispers.

"Oh no. I swear it's terribly boring." She whispers back, deciding to engage with him in whatever flirtatious game they were playing. "You probably wouldn't want to hear about it."

"I'm sure that's not true. I bet it was incredible, an epic romance where love conquered all."

"No," She shakes her head. "It was a sad dull real people kind of love. You know? Mistakes repeated endlessly, lessons remaining unlearned, feelings hurt, hearts broken."

He doesn't completely know how to answer to that, so he chooses to guide the conversation to another subject that he feels more comfortable with. "So," He announces, smirking. "Here you are, the bride's eight closest friend in the entire world."

"I've given that a lot of thought actually. And as far as I see it, the only absolute fact is that I'm not one of her top seven friends. I mean, on such short notice she certainly could have asked and been rejected by several other alternatives before she got to me. Which means that I could be her eighth, tenth, or even hundredth closest friend. "

"Or," He interjects, "You were the only person she knew who could fit into the dress."

"I didn't think of that. So that's another possibility." She realizes, "Therefore, I'm not a friend of the bride at all… I'm just another living mannequin to complete the insane symmetry of seven groomsmen and seven bridesmaids."

"Or alternatively," He suggests, "you really are one of her seven closest friends but, the history you mentioned before prevented her from inviting you, and when the original seventh bridesmaid was injured in an accident, it gave the bride the courage to rekindle a treasured friendship that she thought she had lost all those years ago."

"No, that's definitely not it," She told him as she looked at him directly into his eyes. "Me and the bride were never that close to begin with, even when we were close."

She turned around to glance at the wedded pair though he doesn't dare take his eyes off her and he finds himself in that strange position of being closer to her than he's been in over five years.

"There was this two month period over one summer when we were almost friends, I think," Cagalli says quietly, as she watches the bride and groom dancing together on the middle of the ballroom to some horrible generic pop song. "But I haven't spoken to her since I was twenty two; in fact, I haven't spoken to most of these people for a few years now."

"That still doesn't explain why a pretty girl like you is standing all by herself?"

"Some of them used to be my good friends, but a lot of them aren't anymore." She explains, almost a little sadly, and he can read in her eyes that she is remembering when they were younger, when they were all friends or at the very least acquaintances. He can almost see that she is remembering _them_ too - when he and her were a couple - and just when he thinks he's got her, her expression becomes unreadable, as she adds, "The worst part is I'm just so goddamn tired of playing the let's catch up game. The endless repetition of what I've been doing and with whom I've been doing and how is work. And then after I finish my prepared speech, I just nod blankly as they recite theirs. To be honest, I don't know how I went as long as I did without a smoke or losing my mind."

"I see."

"They used to be my exes friends. Not mine."

"Not even the groom? Not even the beautiful made of honour?" He asks. "I really thought you considered at very least the groom and the made of honour as friends."

"Well they sure were. But, after the break up, they chose a side and I chose mine."

"Then why are you here?"

"I already told you why. I got an invite."

"I meant at the party. Why did you come here, if you don't consider these people your friends?" He know he's being persistent and he's not entirely sure why. Maybe, however irrational it undoubtedly was, he was hoping that the answer would be him.

"You know, I asked myself that exact question when I was getting on the plane." She pauses for a moment, as she gives his question some thought. "And I realized I could only come with two reasons and quite frankly, neither of them were very good."

"And what were they?"

"Curiosity. And… maybe, just maybe, because I knew I shouldn't."

"Something tells me that you still go out looking for trouble whenever you can." He laughs as they both sit down in one of the only unoccupied tables, far away from the rest of the partying crowd. As usual, when they're together, it felt like they were the only ones in the room.

"Or maybe it was because I had enough frequent air miles to make the trip for free."

"Now that's three reasons," he corrects her.

Just as they both finally get settled, they hear the wedding singer start to speak: "_All right, attention all the single woman in the room tonight, it's the time you've all been waiting for. Millie is about to throw the bouquet! So all of you eligible bacheloretes come out to the middle of the floor!"_

"Ah..." He mumbles. "Isn't that your cue?"

She just looks at him as she says, "I'm not single."

He feels his heart drop, even though he shouldn't. He refuses to let it show though or to let her know that anything that she does still affects him. "Sorry, I just assumed that since you came here alone that you were...well, the invitations were all plus one and you didn't bring anyone…Not that I didn't you are capable of finding someone to bring." He's rambling now and internally, his mind is screaming at him to shut up. "So, you're seeing someone?"

"I am." She takes off one of the gloves she was wearing, revealing a modest but beautiful golden ring.

"You…got married." It wasn't a question, just a mere observation of what was in front of him.

She noticed that he was still looking at her so she said, "I got engaged, Athrun."

"I heard married woman aren't supposed to be bridesmaid."

"Who says?"

"Bridesmaids are brides in training. They're basically matrimonial interns. Everyone knows that."

"One, that is an old and out-dated custom. I am disappointed that you would buy into that. And second, once again, I'm not married yet. And three, like I told you earlier, I'm not exactly the world's best bridesmaid."

He downs the glass of champagne she had refused to drink earlier, since he was pretty sure the only way he could talk about her getting married was if he was pissed out of his mind. "Did your husband-to-be come with you then?" He asks abruptly as he places the empty glass back down, feeling the familiar burn of the alcohol as it slides down his throat.

"No, he couldn't. Not on so short notice."

"What does he do?"

"Do?"

"For a living."

"Athrun-"

"C'mon, tell me. We're friends, aren't we?"

"He's a doctor, a cardiologist. Let's leave it at that."

"At least tell me where you live now because you obviously don't live in this city. I mean, I never bump into you anymore. You're never at any social events."

"We moved out to London a few years ago." She replied, "How about you? What have you been up to? Are you seeing anyone or did you get married?"

It was the dreadful question that he'd been avoiding all night. To be honest, he was expecting it, just not from her. "No, I didn't, but I have a girlfriend." The second the words left his mouth he had already regretted them. As if by saying that he had a girlfriend made anyone not feel bad for being unmarried at his age.

"Is it serious?"

"Not at all." He wishes that he could lie to her, but he couldn't, not when she knew him better than anyone else. "But I actually like it, the lack of seriousness. It's just a bit of good fun. And in my experiences, when it gets too serious, it might as well be over." He notices that that she was looking at him with an expression that was a mix of bewildered and amused, and it confuses him. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I know your kind of guy. I know _you_ so well, or at least I used to. And you, Athrun Zala, are just not that kind of guy. That's not you."

"People change."

"Of course they do, it would be crazy to deny that. But I don't think that, in this particular aspect, you have changed at all. For god's sake, you've been in monogamous relationships since you were fifteen. I don't think you're even capable of doing casual." She adds, "Anyways, where is that girlfriend of yours?"

"She didn't come either," He answers. "She's busy working in Amsterdam right now. She's with a ballet company there for a few months."

"Wow, a ballerina. She must have a lovely figure."

"Yeah, Meyrin does."

"Did you just say Meyrin? As in Lunamaria's little sister, the one who always had a little school girl crush on you?" She asks, incredulously. "For Christ's sake. Reviving past romances, and with a younger woman, I wouldn't have taken you for that."

"I already told you people change." He tells her, a little sharply. "I mean you're living proof of that." And there it was, some of the feelings that he still had for what she did to him, for allowing them to grow apart and become distant. All of the resentment, which he had thought he had moved on from, was still there.

"I'll give you that," She concedes, not wanting to fight with him. He suddenly feels bad for his childish outburst and wants to apologize but before he can, she starts to speak again. "So…Meyrin."

"Yes, Meyrin."

"Meyrin, the ballerina… I can almost picture her." Then she grabs another cigarette and prepares to light it.

"C'mon, don't smoke, it's bad for you." He lectures her, but she ignores him. "What would your doctor fiancée think?"

"Seeing as he has succeeded leaving it but not before hooking me on it? I guess he accepts it, but still despises it."

"What is it even like being a doctor's fiancée?"

"It's similar to being a soldier's wife, both are workaholics," She answers and he knows that she's referring to him too in this example, "You see, I kind of experienced both, to an extent at least. I wasn't married to this other guy, but we were in a serious relationship that meant a lot to me."

"What's the difference then?" He asks her and he can't help the look of longing that he lets escape.

"The doctor wears better ties." She smiles and he can't also help looking at his own tie, as to make some sort of comparison, with whom, he doesn't know. It's all a bit weird for him to hear talk about a man she's agreed to spend the rest of her live with. A man that wasn't him. And he decides once more to guide the conversation into new territory that he's more comfortable with.

"You know, I do remember you from before," He says to her, "In fact, I remember the very first time I saw you."

"Really." She says, but she sounds sceptical.

"I'm serious. I remember the first time I really saw you." He adds, "I was nineteen years old and so were you. It was at university and it was near the end of our first year and you were outside, sitting on the quad. I recognized you because I had seen you in our class before though I didn't know your name, but I really wanted to, and I was about to go into class, and I remember seeing you there, all alone. Which I kept on thinking was rare for you considering people always loved to be around you. But there you were. All by yourself, like you were tonight. Except that time, you were under on a bench reading a book."

"And what was that book?"

"I think it was Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen."

"You are so making that up!"

"No I'm not," He defends himself, "Why would you say that?"

"People do it all the time. Make up little details, connecting truths with half truths to make things seem more believable. It's like storytelling."

"Fine. Whatever the book was," he continues, "You were totally absorbed in it. And maybe it was because I didn't know you that well at the time and all I knew was that I wanted to know you, I interrupted you and said: You know that class is already starting right?"

"And what did I say?"

"You said: Who are you?"

She lets out a laugh. "I never said that."

"You did. Trust me."

"And why should I?"

"Because I could never forget one of the best days of my life." For the first time that night, she's left silent. She's surprised by the complete honesty in his words and tries to open her mouth to form her own words, but nothing comes out. It's a rare moment to catch her off-guard and the band has just began to play a song, so he seizes what might very well be his only opportunity. "Cagalli, would you like to have this dance?"


	2. Chapter 2

It's take her a few moments, but she eventually is able to find her voice again and speaks up. "I don't know. I'm not so sure if that's a good idea," Cagalli said to him, shaking her head.

He looked at her, his eyes pleading. "Come on, for old times' sake."

"If old times were any good we wouldn't let them get old."

"You'll regret it if you don't."

"Will I?"

"I know you will."

"Even if that is true, which I don't believe it is, I regret a lot of things." She commented, and he can't tell for sure if there's a hint of sadness in her eyes as she says it. "So I'm pretty sure one more regret in my life doesn't really matter at this point in the grand scheme of things."

"This is different though," He argued, "You'll regret it in the elevator when you go back to your room. You'll regret it when you order room service and later on during the flight back home. And you'll regret it in ten years from now when you think about it unexpectedly and your husband asks what's wrong and you're not sure how to answer. And either rightly or wrongly, he'll take it as a sign of coldness, and soon enough your relationship with the wonderful doctor is strained and before you know it you're getting a divorce. All because you wouldn't dance with me tonight." He knew that he was wildly grasping at straws here, but it was worth a shot in the slightest chance it worked.

She looked at him long and hard, and he couldn't tell what she was thinking. But finally, after what felt like an eternity, she threw up her hands in defeat and exhaled deeply. "Okay."

"Okay?" He repeated, a bit surprised that it had been that easy.

"I said okay. Now don't make me change my mind," She warned him, in a teasing manner, and he grabbed her hand, to lead the way, before she would have a chance to. With their fingers entwined, he helped her rise up from her seat and they walked together. They made sure to avoid the massive crowd that had already formed in the middle of the room and they sought out a secluded corner near instead. When Athrun finds what he believed was a satisfactory spot, he stops to ask her, "Is this alright?"

"Right here will do quite fine." She told him. Upon hearing her response, he didn't waste any more time and started to dance with her, pulling her from side to side, to the upbeat jazzy music playing in the background. A few beats later he fooled around and she found a smile spreading across her face in spite of herself. He was doing all these stupid little twirls and spun her into his arms, over and over again. A laugh escaped her lips as she tried desperately to keep up - his social and business position meant he usually had to project a serious and stuffy image to the rest of the world. It always made her happy when he could be free like this, a side of him that only a few people ever got to see.

They only stop their movements when the last few notes of the song play and a new one begins - a much slower one. There's some space left between them now which feels comfortable, but also uncomfortable at the same time, like neither of them are sure what they should do next and whether it would be too much to take another step towards each other. "Athrun," She said, hesitantly. "The song's over…"

"One more?" He asked before he could think about the tone in which he asked it.

Cagalli offered him another smile before telling him, "Of course." She placed her right hand on his shoulder, while his left hand went to her upper back, tentatively at first. But as they moved together, swaying back and forth on the spot, they quickly found a new, comfortable routine, and his hands slowly but surely drifted to the small of her back. He could feel the softness, the warmth of her skin underneath the thin fabric of her dress. She felt so alive beneath his fingers.

They didn't say anything after that but no words or witty jokes needed to be exchanged then. Indeed, it would be better to savour the moment while it lasted, to try and imprint every detail of this moment into their minds before it would be nothing more than a memory. So they drew in closer, still. She even allowed herself to close her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder and focused on that beautiful, glorious heartbeat of his.

He held on to her more tightly, too, and pressed their clasped hands between them, so that their jointed fists remained snug against their chests. With how close they are, for the first time that night, he could also smell her hair – the scent of vanilla – and before he could stop himself he was kissing her head tenderly. There were feelings rising from somewhere deep within his chest now, a rush of emotions threatening to make themselves known, and although not a religious man, he thanked God above for the chance to hold her like this.

After everything they'd been through, it was truly incredible they could be here, together, now. And on a night meant to celebrate two people finding love, he would like nothing more than to cup those rosy cheeks and brush his lips against hers. He could do it, too, if he wanted. All he would have to do was just move his own head few inches, to lift her chin up with the smallest amount of effort. But while he wanted her, he didn't know whether she still wanted him.

So instead of saying 'I love you,' he asked her a question. "Do you remember," Athrun started, his cool breath tickling her bare neck, "the last time we did this?"

She couldn't forget, not in a million years. "It was at your military ball, wasn't it?"

He nodded. "You used to hate dancing then. And if I recall correctly, you stepped on my feet all night."

"I did not," She denied. Then after a moment of contemplation, she admitted, "Okay. Well, I might have, but I find that dancing isn't so bad now. Especially if it's with good company."

They both smiled at that and he asked her another question. "When did you get so good at this?"

"Ah, well, you know…I took a few lessons over the years. There are always parties being throw in London and it's a requirement that you know how to dance."

The answer surprises him, though it shouldn't have. It would have been unreasonable to expect that she had stayed the exact same as she was back then. Yet it didn't make it hurt any less. "So after all of that happened, you really moved." He remarked, bringing up the past again. Except this was a less happy topic for him.

"Well, Ahmed, he was just my boyfriend back then…. And he thought a change of scenery would be nice and he asked me to come with him. I was pretty sure I liked him and if you knew him, you would know he's a good, decent man. So I said yes. And we spent some time in New York first, then we went off to Munich, until we eventually decided that we would start a new life together in London." She then pleads, "Now please, let's not talk about it anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because…" She paused, awkwardly. "If I talk about my life, and if I talk about my fiancée, then I'll feel even worse for having all these thoughts that I know I shouldn't be having."

"Yeah?" He said. "And what would those thoughts be?"

" Don't be clever," was her only response. "You know what I mean." And it was true. Without her having to actually say it out loud, they both knew that there was still some sort of bond between them, an undeniable attraction that hadn't just disappeared in the time they had spent apart. After all, you couldn't just go from being madly and totally in love with someone one day to feeling nothing at all. Though common sense dictated it would be wrong to take things any further; to actually act upon those feelings.

"You think I'm being clever?" He asked, laughing. "Clever might have worked better, I don't know, maybe ten years ago when I had the youthful arrogance and confidence to back it up. I wouldn't imagine it would work well now."

"Yeah, well then, what does work now?"

"Sincerity," He told her, as he held on to her a little more tightly, her head still resting on his shoulder. "When I can muster it, that is. Or wisdom, if I had any." He pauses briefly and adds, "I can't remember if I mentioned it earlier, but I really am glad you came." She doesn't say anything at that and they continue to sway around the room quietly, both slipping away into their own thoughts.

Its then that he starts to remember how the two of them had managed to fail together despite how much love had always clearly existed between them; how all they did was fight near the end, once she had taken over her late father's company and he had been promoted in the military and it seemed like they never had time to see each other.

Eventually, after one particularly bad argument, she moved out of their apartment and he had no idea where she went. He must have spent weeks in denial at first. Every time he went out, he couldn't help but keep an eye out for her – searching, looking, reaching out to any girl that even slightly resembled the pretty blonde from the behind, without any success. It was irrational, sure, but he had refused to believe that they were over. _We just needed to talk, to sort things through, _he had thought at the time. That behaviour probably lasted about six months. Because it was after the six-month mark that he heard by chance at a party that she was seeing someone else. Someone new. Any prospect of a reunion seemed unlikely then. And it was at that moment he decided if she was she moving on with her life, it was about time that he tried to do the same.

He was still thinking about this when Cagalli finally lifted her head and tapped his shoulder slightly, in order to make him notice that the music had stopped at some point. Athrun quickly scanned the room, but they were the only people left. "Where did everyone go?"

"I don't know." She replied, shrugging. "I guess we weren't paying attention. That dance was probably a lot more than one song…"

It was obvious that they couldn't drag their moment out any longer, so they both let go of each other, albeit somewhat reluctantly. He stood beside her, suddenly feeling self conscious and desperately trying to think of something, _anything_, that he could say that would let him talk to her just a little while longer. "So…uh, when do you go back?"

"Well, my flight leaves at 11:00 a.m…" She began. "So I'll probably have to leave the hotel at 9:00a.m if I want to make it on time… It was just so last minute, and I wasn't able to get out of all my other commitments, so I could only stay the one night. I would have loved to have stayed longer."

"Ah, the curse of the seventh bridesmaid." Athrun joked, in a bid to use humour to hide his obviously disappointment at the fact she was leaving tomorrow and nothing had really changed. He then looked down at his watch. "It's nearly midnight, you should probably get to bed then"

"You're right, I should." She nodded, "I'll probably just go upstairs and watch T.V. Kill some time."

He looked around and the waiters had started to clean the tables, but not without glancing at the both of them occasionally. "They really want us to leave, don't they?"

She laughed. "You think?" She sarcastically asked him.

He simply smiled. "Alright, alright… where should we go next, then?"

She looked at him in surprise, as he was usually much more reserved and restrained than this. "Well, I should go up to my room and you should go to yours and then we should both go back to our respective lives and partners," Cagalli stated, in a very matter-of-fact tone.

"Or we could stay here a bit longer?" He suggested. "I don't know when I'll see you next. I wouldn't want to regret it..."

"Goodnight, Athrun," She said, not wanting to get sucked in by his charm again, and she quickly turned around to walk away from him. She only made it a few steps, though, before, against her better judgement, she abruptly turned back to face him and asked, "Would you like to come up to my room? I'm thinking one bottle of wine might not hurt. And you're right, it would be nice to reminisce some more..."

"I'd like that," He replied and he meant it. And with that, the two of them were leaving the ballroom to make their way to the lobby and the elevator, which was already happened to be waiting for them on the ground floor. But just as they were about to get in, she stopped again. "Hang on," Cagalli told him firmly.

"What?"

"It won't just be a nice chat, will it?" She asked and she sounded gravely serious all of a sudden. "If we go in, we'll be committing to a course of action."

"We're committing to a 30 second elevator ride."

"I need we need a moment to think this through. Can we just… stand here for a bit?"

He respected her request and they stand there in front of the elevator, contemplating where the night might take them and of the consequences their actions would have. Their time together was quickly ruined, though, by the unexpected arrival of a guest who quickly strode in from down the hall. Of course, it would be none other than the lavishly beautiful made of honour, Fllay Allster. "Hey guys," the tiny red head greeted them before adding, "So, what is everyone looking at?"

"Fllay!" Cagalli greeted back rather stiffly, "I haven't seen you in ages. What have you been up to?" Athrun was surprised to hear her initiate small talk; hadn't she told him earlier that she hated this little game of catch-up?

"Nothing much," Fllay answered, "Just the same old, same old. Traveling around the world here and there, organizing charities and galas. I married Sai Argyle though, so that's new. I'm Fllay Argyle now."

"I'm glad to hear-"

"And what about you, Cagalli?" Fllay asked, cutting her off, showing that she was just as inquisitive and nosey as ever. "You basically disappeared on all of us. I heard you're finally seeing someone though – I want to hear all about it! How did you two meet?"

'It's a boring story, I'm sure you don't really want to know," She said, shaking her head.

"I don't think I've heard this story either," Athrun says, piping up.

"Well, it was by chance. We bumped into each other at a coffee shop one day, he let me order the last chocolate muffin there was despite the fact I was behind him and he wanted it too. And after that, we started talking to each other… I guess you could say the rest is history."

"I wouldn't call that chance! That sounds so romantic," Fllay squealed. "It sounds like fate was working to bring you together."

"I think you make your own destiny, actually." Athrun interrupted, mostly because he didn't want to hear what Cagalli had to say about her fiancé anymore or how some unexplained, cosmic force had brought them together. "Look," he added, pointing in front of them to also try the topic while he was at it, "the elevator's here."

Cagalli turned to Fllay and apologized. "I'm sorry. I must have been so out…I hadn't even noticed. Ha, ha."

"You poor thing," Fllay said, and it felt more like faked social response than a genuine display of concern. "Millie told me that you came out all the way from London, I'm sure you're absolutely exhausted with the jet lag and all." She then glanced at Athrun, who stood before them. "And what were you waiting for?"

"Ah…" He doesn't know how to begin, "Ladies first?"

Fllay laughed one of her typical, high-pitched laughs. "So polite! You've always such a gentleman." She told him as she passed him and got inside the elevator. "Ladies first." He repeated again to Cagalli, so she got in as well, and shortly afterwards he followed her.

The redhead then pressed the button for the ninth floor, where her room was, and turned to face her companions. "And what floor are you going to?" Fllay asked Athrun first, while Cagalli simply stood in the corner and looked at him. She was interested to see how this would turn out.

"Ah… I don't know." Athrun said, a bit awkwardly, and the redhead simply laughed again.

"What do you mean you don't know? They reminded everyone at reception, silly."

He scratched his head, trying to conjure a plausible excuse so that he didn't have to admit the truth – that he was going to his ex-girlfriend's room and he wasn't exactly sure where that was. "It must have been all the alcohol I drank, I can't seem to remember where they said my room was," He smiled, hoping that she wouldn't push it any further.

She raised an eyebrow up, curiously. "You don't seem very drunk to me."

"Well, I'm going to the eleventh floor," Cagalli said, hoping that her interruption would end the brutal interrogation unfolding in front of her. But it was like Fllay paid no attention to her at all, because she simply continued to stare at Athrun and waited for a more satisfying response out of him.

"Ah, now I remember," He finally said. "Eleven, I'm going to the eleventh floor as well."

"What a pleasant coincidence." Fllay either bought their story or simply didn't want to make things any weirder, because she smiled and pressed the button for the eleventh floor. Another awkward silence fell between the unlikely trio until Fllay decided to speak again. "That's a nice dress, by the way, Cagalli."

"Thank you." The blonde smiled, "You look better in it actually."

"Ah, well, you know…" Fllay began but she didn't quite finish her sentence and the silence takes place all over again. "Uh, do you… did you two arrive together or something?"

Cagalli shook her head. "Oh, no, no, not at all. We were just catching up earlier. Old friends and all."

"Of course..." Flay trailed off and then turned to Athrun, suddenly becoming animated, "How is Meyrin doing by the way? I bumped into Luna the other week and she was telling me all about you guys!"

"We're good."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"That's good."

"Yes. It is."

"She wasn't here tonight, was she? I didn't…"

As much as her endless round of questions were driving him crazy, he almost wanted to laugh. It was so obvious what she was trying to do. She very well knew that Meyrin wasn't there, but she had always disliked Cagalli and enjoyed taking whatever shot against her that she could. And in this case, it meant trying to make it clear that he was a taken man and she had no place in his world these days. "No, Fllay, she didn't come," He answered, politely. "She's in Amsterdam at the moment, actually, she's involved in a production there. I'm surprised Luna didn't mention that."

"Ah yes, well she's a talented ballerina after all. She's so beautiful too," Fllay continued, wanting more for Cagalli to hear her comments than him, "Amazing, just amazing. And so…"

"Skinny?" Cagalli offered, piping up from the back of the elevator.

"Yes. A body to absolutely to die for," Fllay nodded. "And she's just such a lovely girl. Any guy would be lucky to find someone like her, don't you think, Athrun?" The elevator made a dinging noise at that moment to announce they had reached the ninth floor. "Ah, looks like this is my stop." The doors then opened. "Give Meyrin my best regards, Athrun. If you can remember that."

"Goodbye, Fllay."

"Bye," Cagalli said as the redhead stepped out of the elevator.

"Bye Cagalli," Fllay smiled and the elevator door closed behind her, leaving the two of them alone. At last.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note:** Here's another update. Without giving any spoilers, I wanted to keep the rating for this the same, which is why I wrote the way I did. Feel free to review.

* * *

"Well…"

"Well…"

"That was awkward, wasn't it?" Cagalli announced aloud, staring at her companion beside her. "I'm sorry about that and if it was my fault. Do you think that that's going to cause you any trouble?"

"I don't know," Athrun answered honestly, shrugging. He felt a little impatient all of a sudden as they waited for the elevator to arrive at their floor. "Either way, what I do know is that she should really learn to just mind her own business." It was right then and there that he started to feel something vibrate in his trouser pocket. Not many people called him at this time of night and he wondered who could have possibly been trying to reach him now. Taking the phone of out of his pocket, he quickly reads the caller display.

"Who is it?" She asked him. He doesn't glance up at her right away, as his eyes remain fixated on the little device. He looks conflicted, as if he isn't sure whether or not he should pick up, and from that she already has the answer to her question. "It's Meyrin, right?'

"Yeah, it is," He explained, part-amazed at how well she could read him and part dismayed at whatever it was his girlfriend was calling to ask him about. "I guess Fllay has probably already told her something….but it's okay. It doesn't matter right now. What matters is that, through some stroke of chance or fate, we're here together." He ignores the call, letting it go to his voice mail instead, and shoves the phone back into his pocket where he can do his best to forget about it.

"But, Fllay…" She began, trying to restart the conversation and bring it back to what their mutual acquaintance had said; about how he was also in a committed relationship.

"There's nothing else to say. She's an idiot," He replied, reassuringly. "She doesn't mean anything."

"Maybe, but she makes a good point."

"What do you mean?"

"You're with someone. I'm with someone too…" She explained. "And she just makes everything seem so, well, consequential."

"What do you mean?'

"I mean, she makes it seem like what we're about to potentially do has grave consequences. Like we're willingly walking head-first into a disaster or something."

"Who are you talking about?"

"Fllay?

"That's weird. I don't remember seeing her," He said, smiling. The elevator then made a dinging noise - signalling that they had finally reached their floor – and the two step out.

"Really? Because she was just in here, wearing a bridesmaid's dress, like mine," She recounted, and he looked at her as if she was crazy and he didn't have the faintest clue what she was talking about. "C'mon. Don't look at me like that. She was just in the elevator with us. "

"Another woman in a bridesmaid dress in the elevator with us?" Athrun said, repeating the information she gave him as he continued to feign ignore. "Apart from you, there was no one else like that. I think I would have remembered seeing someone else."

And just like that, she laughed despite herself, and things started to feel a little bit less awkward between the two. She had to give it to him – even though he was usually serious most of the time, something that his job required, he really knew how to make her smile. In fact, he really knew her better than anyone else. "Fine," Cagalli said, throwing her hands up in defeat. "Let's say that there was no one other woman in the elevator with us. What about Meyrin?"

"Never heard of her."

"Your girlfriend…."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She looked at him, curious to see how far he was willing to go with this. "What about Ahmed?"

"Who?"

"The man I'm engaged to?"

"You're not feeling very well are you?" He asked her, extending his hand out to touch her forehead, as if he wanted to check her temperature. His hands felt cool against the warmth of her skin. "Ah, my suspicions have been confirmed, you are unwell. And you should be taken straight to your room. Which way would that be, by the way?

"That would be over there," She answered, pointing to a nearby room, room 1105. "Here's the key," she added, handing over a key card. He uses it to open the door and he lets them both in. The first thing that he does when he inside is scans the room, which is undoubtedly worth every penny that she was probably paying for it. The floors were carpeted in expensive rugs, pieces of expensive art decorated the beige walls, an immaculate glass chandelier hung above them, and in the centre of the room there was a rather large king-sized bed. And beside it, there were these huge French windows reaching from the bottom of the floor to the impossibly tall ceiling, which provided a breathtaking view of the city outside.

"This is pretty nice," He commented, sticking his hands into his pockets. "So…"

"So?"

"I'm here."

"Yes," She laughed. "Somehow, here you are."

"What now?

"I don't know. How about some of that wine I promised?" She suggested, to which he nodded. She took that as a cue to disappear into the other room – to what was presumably the kitchen - and she quickly returned a few moments later with some alcohol as well as enough glasses for the both of them. She poured a drink for him first and then one for her. Once she was done, she sets the bottle on the side table, and the two sit down beside each other on the bed.

When she finally makes herself comfortable, she brings up her glass for a toast and smiled. "Cheers. From one lonely soul to another."

He clinks her glass back in return, though he cocks up an eyebrow curiously at the blonde. "What makes you think that I'm lonely?"

"What you said earlier. How your relationship isn't serious."

"I'm not lonely," Athrun replied defensively. But funnily enough, the words didn't even sound believable to him. He drinks the rest of his glass and pours himself another one, before he sharply retorted, "Anyways, you're lonely too. It's why you let me come up."

"Everyone's lonely," She answered, in a matter-of-fact way. "Of course, I'm lonely too, sometimes. One day, I woke up in a strange, new country where I knew absolutely no one and I realized I was thousands of miles away from home."

"You didn't have to go."

"I know."

"So why did you?"

"I wanted to forget you."

"Did it work?"

"What do you think?" And with that, it was her her turn to recklessly down the rest of her drink. She started to feel a little lightheaded, and she's not sure whether it was the effect of the alcohol or her present company. But before she can think about it too much, she pours herself another glass.

"If we're going to be completely honest, you broke my heart too," He admitted. "I was absolutely destroyed when you left. I had this whole life planned out in my head, and all of a sudden, it was gone, and so were you. I couldn't understand how could you do it."

Guilt gnawed as her as she heard his confession. "I didn't want to, I wished we could've made things work. I just knew when to let go."

"Yeah, I can see that now. It's one of the few perks of getting older. I can understand now that you just wanted me to be happy, and you thought someone else could do that job much better than you could." He started smiling unexpectedly as he remembered something. "I tried to date other women, too, afterwards."

"Let me guess, they all fell head over heels for you. And you broke a few hearts of your own, Casanova."

"Hardly." He shook his head. "It was a disaster. It had been so long since I'd been with anyone else, and I was always doing or saying the wrong thing... And anyways, none of them were quite like that girl I used to know, the one sitting on a park bench…"

"Don't think about her-"

"Reading a book," He finished. "Why?"

"I can't compete with her. She was your first love."

"You don't have to," Athrun said, quietly. And he's starting to feel a bit drunk himself - he's lost count of all the glasses he has had at this point - and all those filters that he usually had in place were no longer functional. "I miss you. A lot. It's _you_ that I want more than anyone. I want you so much. "

"If that's true," She said softly, her heart racing when she notices how he's leaning into her. "Then are you going to make a move or what?"

He doesn't answer her – at least, not with his words. Instead, he finally kisses her, his lips crashing into hers as he gently places a hand on her face. It somehow takes her by surprise, even though it shouldn't have because they were both expecting it. They had been building up to this all night. She's still, for a moment, though. But soon enough she's kissing him back widly and it's like they're finally _reconnecting_. Like all the talking they had done over the past few hours hadn't brought them as close together the way that one tiny, little kiss did.

Though of course, like everything else in life, it had to eventually come to an end. And as it did, they pull apart from each other, slowly and reluctantly. With their eyes fluttering back open, they look at each and are completely silent. No one dares to say a thing. Their faces are only a few inches a part, now, and their noses are brushing against each other ever so slightly.

"God, what are we doing?" She asked, her voice only slightly above a whisper. He ignores it and continues kissing her, tracing her cheeks and her neck with his lips. "This is insane. I should have said no, I shouldn't have let you in the first place or had all of that wine…." He's at her collarbone now, with no sign of stopping, and she feels more breathless than she did before.

"I should do the right thing…I want to do the right thing…but this… I can't stay away from this either." He starts to kiss her cleavage and she's not sure how much more of this she can take before her resolve completely crumbles. She wants him just as much as he wants her, despite all of her rationalizations about how wrong it all is.

"Athrun." She said sternly as she somehow finds the last ounce of her self-restrain to push him off her, forcing him to stop. She then looks at him in the eye. "You know that this isn't going to end well, right? There are still no happy endings in store for us. This won't change the fact we both have two very different lives."

He nodded, seriously. "I am well aware."

"Are you?" She asks in tone, which suggests that she doesn't really believe him. She can't help but reach out for his hand though and touches it tenderly. She cares for him, and she hates to seem him hurt.

"I am."

"Okay." She answered, leaving it at that, and she rises up from her bed, untangling herself from him. "I need to get this stupid dress off first though." She walked towards the mirror and started to release her hair from the required style the bride had requested. He, on the other hand, remained on the bed and began to remove his own clothing, starting off with his expensive Italian leather shoes. His socks followed shortly afterwards.

While he continues to undress, she tries to do the same. She extended her hand out behind her back as far as she could, in an attempt to reach the zipper of that wretched bridesmaid dress which was starting to feel suffocating, but she struggles. "Can you help me?" Cagalli finally asked when it becomes apparent that she couldn't do this on her own.

"Of course," Athrun replied, getting up and joining her. He stands behind her and starts to slowly tug down at the zipper. Once the material finally becomes loose enough, he pulls it down, his hands grateful for the curves of her exquisite body that he can feel through the thin material.

Eventually, the dress falls around her feet in a luxurious pool of silk and she kicks it aside, leaving her in nothing but a pair of underwear and a simple black bra. He then wraps his arms around her waist, protectively almost, as if to say that she was his, and he kisses her neck once more. "Now what would have you done without me?" He inquired playfully, hugging her. With his girlfriend gone for most of the year, he had almost forgotten what it was like to be with a woman. Especially _this_ woman. It felt incredible.

_"_I don't know," She said, wrapping her arms around his and leaning her head back against his firm chest. "I probably would've struggled."

"I think you might have been stuck on that bridesmaid's dress for the rest of your life."

"Or at least until I got back home."

"Ah, London." He whispered into her ear, sending a delightful tingle down her spine. "Should I call you if I'm ever there?"

"Of course not," She told him. "I'd rather that you left me alone after tonight, if that's alright." She turned around and gave him a peck on the lips as she furiously unbuttoned his top. "Now shut up. And take of that shirt already."

"Alright, alright." He grinned, discarding his button-up shirt along with his undershirt. She reaches out impatiently to undo his belt as the tension between them grows and he helps her out by taking off his trousers. Now, they're both left in nothing but their underwear. He gets on his knees and starts kissing her stomach this time instead, touching the bare, naked skin; while his hands wrap around her back.

"Athrun," She moaned. "I have something I want to tell you."

"After." He pleaded, still kissing her stomach, getting lower on her body with every kiss. He didn't want to stop. Stopping now would be nothing short of pure torture.

"No, not later. Now," She insisted. "A woman never has a man's intended focus as much as she has it before sex. Come on."

Athrun, who was still in the middle of kissing her, stood up abruptly and sighed. He her with short breath, "Alright. Speak up, then."

"I was just thinking - you were right about what you said before. I only want you the best for you, I always have," She told him. "So you can't keep living like this. You deserve to be with someone who you love and can be with, and who makes you happy."

"And?"

"That's it. That's all I wanted to say."

"Okay." He said, holding her hands within his, "Thank you." And because words are no longer needed or wanted, she silently leads him to the bed. They start to kiss again, except there's no gentleness about this time. It's rough and urgent, fuelled by lust and longing and the sad knowledge they don't know if they'll ever be able to be together like this again. Their kisses are now wild and aiming for more.

Falling onto the mattress, he ends up on top of her and his hands caress her shoulders and arms before they move their way to the small of her back. He finds what he's looking for and he skilfully unclasps her bra, tossing the lacy material onto the floor. He bends his head down to kiss her heart and she, in return, runs her hand in his hair, pulling him closer to her. Neither of them bothers to fight it anymore. They give into each other; completely and wholly, and that night, they become one.


End file.
